


To Good Friends

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, The Sentinel Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three friends think about friendship at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Good Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the 2014 Sentinel Secret Santa and I'd like to thank Ainm for running it.

Jim Ellison stood by the balcony windows and blinked and then frowned, seeing scattered snow flurries falling. Behind him, the loft was shrouded in darkness. When Jim had walked over to the windows, the sun had been low on the horizon but still throwing rays across the bay. He had looked at the shiny reflection of the sun on the water and noticed a small boat moored by the docks, and that was the last thing he remembered. He realized he must have zoned and glanced at his watch. Yes, he had zoned for a good hour, thanks to his wayward senses. What was it Blair had said to him yesterday? “When you start to stare at anything, hold something in your hand, running your fingers over it. Always have two or more senses running. Piggyback one sense on another so you don’t zone, especially if I’m not around to help you.”

More weary than annoyed, Jim moved away from the windows and turned on a light in the living room before heading into the kitchen, turning on a light there and trying to figure what he would make for dinner since it was his night to cook. His taste buds, while better since he started buying the organic foods Blair had insisted on, would sometimes still spike and give him problems. Jim opened the refrigerator and looked at his options – organic vegetables and chicken. He supposed he could stir fry the ingredients, but what Jim really wanted was a big porterhouse steak, twice baked potatoes with butter and cheese, and a cold beer.

However, whenever he bought a slab of beef, Blair would look at him in horror, like he had just kicked a puppy, and talk about arteries clogging – not that Blair would forgo eating said slab of beef. Jim didn’t even want to consider what Blair would say about twice backed cheesy potatoes. “It’s like having a wife. I feel henpecked,” he chuckled. 

Blair had been living with Jim for three months. At first, Jim was sure that he would end up strangling Blair within two weeks, but once the monkey, no ape (Jim could hear Blair’s voice correct him) was gone, it ended up Blair wasn’t a bad roommate. He shopped, he cooked, he was considerate, he liked the Jags, and he could even carry on an interesting - if somewhat strange - conversation, now if only Jim could teach him to clean up the bathroom drain after he showered. 

And though Jim would never admit it to Blair, he enjoyed having the younger man around, and not just because Blair helped him with his senses. Blair was funny and good company. Jim hadn’t realized just how lonely his life had been. 

Glancing at the time, aware that Blair would be home soon, Jim set about making dinner, his mind on the upcoming holidays. Christmas was just two days away. 

Jim had never been one to do something special when it came to the holidays. As a kid, after his mother had left, Christmas had not been very pleasant. It had been more of an obligation than anything else. His father would invite “people with the right connections” over during the holidays, rather than people they cared about or wanted to see. When he was married to Carolyn, they did have a holiday party, some of Carolyn’s family coming to dinner. But they hadn’t done more than put up some red bows around the loft and, if Jim were honest, the holiday party had never been much of a party, especially as their marriage disintegrated.

Tossing the food into a pan, Jim considered how Blair might celebrate. Jim had never really asked Blair about what he celebrated, but Blair did have a pocket knife from his Bar Mitzvah, so Jim guessed he celebrated Hanukkah. Still, the kid seemed really excited about Christmas. He walked around humming Christmas Carols, wrote out really, really weird Christmas Cards and baked cookies. “Must be the anthropologist in him,” Jim muttered, not that he minded the cookies. He smiled as he considered the different types of cookies Blair had made. And, of course, Jim had to taste them all, to test which were the best. That was one test he didn’t mind (and yes, Blair had made him identify the ingredients in all six different types of cookies).

Actually, despite all the annoying Christmas trappings that bothered his heightened senses, Blair’s indomitable spirit was making this the best Christmas Jim could remember in a long time. Blair seemed to be into it all, the lights, the sounds, even the smells. And Blair was pulling Jim into the Christmas spirit with him. It was like Blair saw the good side of it all.

Moving the frying pan off the burner, Jim paused and looked around. The loft looked inviting, comfortable even; Blair having placed artifacts, plants and artwork around the apartment, and the apartment definitely felt different since Blair moved it. It felt like home, a place you wanted to be. So, maybe it was time to rethink how it should look at Christmas, too. There was still time, if he went out after dinner tonight, to get a tree. There was a vendor selling them out by the organic market’s parking lot. Jim had seen the trees lined up on wooden rails. He could get a small one and put it near the balcony doors and get a wreath for the front door. He could pick up a tree stand, some lights and ornaments at a local drug store and tomorrow they could decorate.

Thinking it through, Jim nodded to himself. Blair had made his home special, so he would make this Christmas special for Blair.

***

Blair bounced (there was really no other way to describe his entrance) into the loft a short time later. Perched on his curly head was Santa Claus hat and around his neck was a red and white striped scarf. He dropped his backpack near the door, hung up his coat, and walked over to look at the food.

“Hey, Jim,” he greeted, as he peered over Jim’s shoulder at the food. “How was your day?”

“Good, Sandburg. We closed the forgery case.”

“Great,” Blair grabbed some plates for the table. “Does that mean you get to take your vacation?”

Jim smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I think Simon’s relieved that I’m taking some vacation. He said, and I quote, ‘Go home and this time don’t meet up with any serial stranglers.’ Then I cleared out my paperwork and took off.”

“Don’t meet any serial stranglers this time?” Blair questioned.

Jim waved a hand dismissively and brought the food to the table. “It’s a long story.”

Blair shook his head thinking, where sentinels go, trouble follows. “So, what plans have you made for this vacation?” he asked, deliberately focusing on serving himself some food. Blair wanted to spend the vacation with Jim, but he didn’t want to horn in on Jim’s vacation, if Jim didn’t want him.

“I was thinking I’d do some work around the loft,” Jim glanced around. “It’s been a while since I did any kind of maintenance.”

“So, you’re going to be home,” Blair clarified, quietly.

“Yeah, what about you?”

“No plans, in particular. What about Christmas Day. Any family obligations?” Jim winced at the question. Jim had never spoken of family, but watching Jim’s face, Blair could tell he’d hit a real sore spot with the question. He’d need to probe that area, gently.

“No, no family plans.” Jim studied his food. “What about you?” 

Blair shook his head and glanced at Jim. “Nothing planned. My mom’s in India so, I guess we’re on our own.” 

Jim nodded his agreement and then looked up and smiled. “You up for cooking a Christmas Dinner, Chief? We could invite Simon. I know he’s been down over Darryl spending Christmas with Joan.”

“We’d need to do some shopping?” Blair couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. This was so what he had wanted. Blair went to great lengths to appear fun loving and carefree at Christmas. And he did have a lot of offers from friends to share the holidays. But Jim was the first “best friend” Blair ever had. Jim was the kind of person you could turn to with a problem, and though Jim might yell and lecture, Jim would help you and back you up, no matter what. Jim was the kind of friend Blair wanted to spend an important holiday with and he thanked heaven he was getting the opportunity.

“I have a few errands to run tonight. We could maybe get the shopping done after dinner. And I’ll give Simon a call and see if he wants to join us on Christmas. I know he’s been ducking invitations right and left but those were big family things. We’re just two guys relaxing and enjoying the holiday.”

Digging into his food with a great deal more energy, Blair nodded. “I have a really good recipe for a crown roast and Yorkshire pudding.”

“Will I like Yorkshire pudding?” Jim asked, suspiciously.

“Think of it as rolls on steroids. You’ll love it.”

“And we should have twice baked cheesy potatoes.”

Blair considered talking about heart attacks but decided it was Christmas. “Okay,” he agreed, smiling. “But, I think maybe we should add a couple of vegetables and some salad, just to pretend we eat right.”

“Sounds good,” Jim agreed. “Let me give Simon a call and we’ll head out.” As Jim said this, he took his plate to the sink and began wrapping the leftover food. Blair joined him and the pair worked together to get the food cleaned up and put away. Then Jim called Simon. 

As a cop and ex covert/black ops agent, Jim was a master interrogator. As an added bonus, being a sentinel let him hear Simon’s heartbeat and respiration increase when he lied and told Jim he had plans. 

“Simon, I know you don’t have plans.”

“You know no such thing,” Simon challenged.

“I could hear your heart rate go up when you said you had plans. You were lying.”

“You know Detective; that is taking unfair advantage. You shouldn’t be allowed to use those senses on your boss.”

“Consider it practice for when I’m interrogating suspects.”

“You needn’t sound so smug,” Simon sighed. “Listen, I appreciate the offer-”

“Simon, it’s just me, Blair, dinner and probably a football game. Come and join us. You can bring some beer.”

“You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

“No, Sir.”

Simon sighed. “Okay, what else can I say, but thanks.”

Setting up a time for dinner and finishing the phone call, Jim and Blair took off to get some shopping done and though Blair didn’t know it, to buy a tree.

***

Christmas Day

Jim had left it to Blair to pick the Christmas tree and Blair had picked a small one, just five feet high. Christmas Eve they laughed while drinking rum filled eggnog and decorating the tree and the loft. So the apartment was ready Christmas Day when Simon arrived.

Blair was in the kitchen putting the final touches on the dinner when Simon came in and put the beer in the refrigerator and bottle of champagne on the table, announcing it was for a Christmas Toast. 

Blair, glancing at Simon, noticed he looked subdued and Blair guessed Simon was regretting the way his marriage had ended and the fact that his son wasn’t with him. Glad that Simon was here and not home alone, Blair got out three champagne flutes as Simon took in the tree. “Where’s Jim?” 

“Mrs. Gray, the octogenarian in apartment 201, is going to her daughter’s house for Christmas. Her daughter lives just a few blocks away, but Jim offered her a ride.”

Simon nodded, that was typical Jim. He always watched out for his neighbors. But lately, Jim seemed different. He seemed more relaxed since Blair had appeared on the scene. Blair seemed to have infused some laughter into Jim’s life. Even the loft reflected the change. There was never a tree up when Jim was married to Carolyn. Simon was pretty sure Jim had spent last Christmas alone, not that Jim would admit it.

And now, here were Blair and Jim making sure Simon was with friends at Christmas. Yes, things had changed in the Ellison household. And Simon knew there could be only one reason why, a five foot eight elf who was currently making Yorkshire pudding with the roast’s pan drippings. Glad that Blair had come into Jim’s life, and glad that he was in Simon’s too, Simon opened the bottle of champagne just as Jim entered the loft. Pouring three glasses, he gave one to Jim and another to Blair and offered up a toast, “To good friends.”

The three clinked their glasses, each glad of the two friends standing beside him, and settled down to Christmas Dinner.


End file.
